


Prasthāna

by overlordy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Tragedy, hello naughty children it is SUFFER time, if that isnt right someone pls correct me, its about to get sad, title is nepali for departure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:30:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overlordy/pseuds/overlordy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should have been more careful. He should have been stronger. He should have protected him. He should have...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prasthāna

**Author's Note:**

> a prompt fill written at like 1 am  
> listen to [this](http://8tracks.com/lxvebad/instrumentals) to enhance the experience

The mission went like any other.

Zenyatta was paired alongside Genji to take down a Talon base and bring their crime in the area to an end. In the grand scheme of things, it would likely not amount to much, but Genji understood the impact that driving away Talon would have on the people living in the area. Unexpectedly, Junkrat and Roadhog were also accompanying them. Junkrat likely for his knowledge on demolition, and Roadhog for the way he was all but glued to Junkrat’s side. Personally, Genji could not trust the junkers as far as he could throw them. He knew the feeling was mutual, especially toward Zenyatta, but the four of them had a job to do.

They slipped into the Talon-controlled factory with surprising ease. Every guard seemed to turn the other way when it was convenient and appeared deaf to the faint beeping of the explosives set by Junkrat. They slipped past patrols in the cover of darkness, caring only about setting the explosives and leaving as quickly as possible.

The lack of opposition did not sit well with Genji. He turned to Zenyatta and whispered, “This is too easy.”

Zenyatta nodded his agreement, trailing after Junkrat’s giggling form. “We must remain cautious.”

“Of course, master.”

Genji could not shake off his unease, even as Junkrat set the final explosive. The four slipped between towering piles of crates containing devastating weaponry, making their way toward the exit.

That was when it all came crashing down around them.

A shout echoed over the din of the factory and the towers around them began to teeter. They exchanged glances, then broke into a sprint as boxes crashed down and splintered. Genji grabbed Zenyatta’s wrist and pulled him along. He kept his hold tight through the cacophony around them, struggling to find his way through the maze they were in. The crashing weapons finally ceased, but the four continued to run as the shouting grew louder, closer.

“Here!” cried Junkrat over the din, skidding down a path that branched to the right. Genji darted over fallen obstacles and ducked around the corner just in time to avoid a hail of bullets.

He nearly crashed into Roadhog. “What?” he gasped, adrenaline coursing through him as the shouting of the guards grew even louder. His internal sensors whirred and marked their approach. One hundred feet. Seventy feet. Thirty feet.

“Surrounded,” Roadhog finally answered. Just over his shoulder was a wall of people armed to the teeth, their weapons trained directly on them. A similar barrier of people stopped at the other end of the corridor.

“This was a trap,” said Zenyatta, waving his arm to place an orb of harmony on Roadhog. The massive junker grunted in thanks. “They suspected we were coming.”

“How the hell did they know that?” snapped Junkrat.

“Do you expect us to answer that?” said a dark voice. A masked man garbed in black parted the wall of people, two shotguns in his hand. Genji recognized him as Reaper, the man Winston had warned them all about months prior. Genji’s attention immediately moved upward. If Reaper was here, then it was likely that the sniper, Widowmaker, was not far. Behind him, he heard Zenyatta and Junkrat speaking to each other in low voices.

He hoped they had a plan.

“If you agree to share information, I might consider making your deaths quick.”

“You know we would rather die fighting, Reaper,” replied Genji, his voice calm and his senses on high alert. Zenyatta and Junkrat had fallen silent.

Reaper chuckled, deep and mocking, “Right, how heroic. If that’s the case-”

“Now!”

Zenyatta’s order silenced Reaper. Genji whipped around as Junkrat held the button for the explosives above his head.

An ear-splitting gunshot pierced the air. Zenyatta moved in a blink, shoving Junkrat to the side.

There was a click, then a roar that threw Genji off his feet. He collided with something hard as an inferno rushed around him, punctuated by the crash of brick and metal as the building came down around him. He had little time to think before everything went black.

His enhancements continued to operate even while unconscious. His internal systems processed the passage of time as if through a fog, registering the crackle of flames and faint cries before his body came to awareness. He floated through a sea of sensory information.

The minutes ticked past. Ten, fifteen, thirty. Everything dimmed into silence. An hour. Sirens. Two hours. Something shifted to his left, but he could not move his aching body. Was he pinned by something?

He heard voices. Warbled, like they were underwater. His body decided it was time to come into awareness. His systems whirred online, administered anesthetics to his injuries before he could process the pain. He shifted and groaned.

The voices became clearer. “Here they are,” and “Oh, no,” or something along those lines. That last one concerned him. Even when he opened his eyes, it was dark. He wondered if he was still unconscious, before the rubble above him shifted and he was pulled to his feet.

“Didja find ‘im, doc?”

Junkrat. Genji felt relieved that he had made it through. He groaned, again, feeling fuzzy and disoriented as Dr. Ziegler helped him to his feet. He stumbed, but remained upright. “Wha’ happened?” he slurred, his body numbed due to the anesthetics.

The world shifted into focus. Dr. Ziegler began to examine him for injuries. “The explosion knocked you unconscious,” she answered, “you were trapped beneath the rubble for two and a half hours. Roadhog survived thanks to the orb of harmony, and shielded Junkrat from the rubble. We have found numerous Talon operatives, both alive and deceased, but no sign of Widowmaker or Reaper.”

Genji could only nod along, following her instructions to focus on her finger or bend parts of his body. She announced that he had a few sprained bones and lacerations, which was apparently lucky considering he was caught in an explosion and trapped under about a foot of building. He tried to stand, but his vision swam and knocked him back down. Her hand on his shoulder steadied him.

“That is one way to put it,” he mumbled, clutching his head as he stared around the blackened ruins of the factory. Junkrat and Roadhog picked their way through the charred remains, salvaging up anything valuable. Every few seconds, Junkrat would look their way, his face pinched in dread. Genji looked over his shoulder, at the throng of emergency responders gathered around their vehicles. There was a throng of gurneys carrying a worrying amount of people. Something was missing.

“Where is Zenyatta?”

Dr. Ziegler’s grip tightened. Junkrat and Roadhog froze in place and exchanged a wary glance. No one answered him. Why hadn’t anyone answered him?

“Angela,” he said again, panic lacing hot through his body, like poison. Dr. Ziegler flinched and looked down, but he pressed onwards. “Where is he? Where is Zenyatta?”

“We… we found Zenyatta not far from you. He was unable to withstand both the explosion and the collapse of the building.”

Genji’s first thought was that Dr. Ziegler was playing some kind of sick, twisted joke. His throat closed, painfully tight. He pushed himself up despite her protests and swayed dangerously on his feet, but he remained upright despite the way the world tilted around him. Angela watched him with apprehension. “Where is he?” he repeated, unable to keep the fear from his voice. It washed over him and made his hands tremble.

“I…” she trailed off, biting her lip. “This way.”

The two of them picked their way through the rubble, toward the herd of emergency vehicles gathered not too far away. The junkers watched them, but Genji paid them no heed, instead focusing on a gurney stretched out beside one of the engines. His vision went black around the edges. His breathing quickened into gasps that threatened to snap his ribs as he stumbled closer. The voices around him faded into white noise as he came to a stop beside Zenyatta, who laid on the snow-white gurney in scattered pieces.

Genji fell to his knees. He felt as if he was drowning. He gasped for air, but he could not fill his heaving lungs. Desperately he grasped at his master’s crushed hands, struggled to detect the life that normally flowed through them, but it was gone. Sobs wrenched through his lips. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of his helm. He tossed it aside, uncaring of who saw his mangled face.

“Zenyatta, please,” he whispered through his gasps, cradling Zenyatta’s head in his hands. A single hole pierced the center of his forehead, surrounded by eight dim lights. Looking at it made Genji feel sick. Everything fogged around him. His vision swam as Zenyatta’s serene face moved in and out of focus. He touched their foreheads together, like always, and felt only cold metal against his skin.

Eventually, the force of his own cries knocked him unconscious.

* * *

Despite Genji’s naive wishes, time passed as if nothing happened. For months he shut himself in the Shamabli monastery, unable to face his companions in Overwatch. They still visited him in his empty monastery. Hanzo, when he first came by, saw the state his brother was in and decided to stay, despite Genji’s protests.

He helped Genji rebuild Zenyatta. They worked for months to piece Zenyatta back together, to make him into what he used to be. Winston and, surprisingly, Junkrat would appear to help when they could- albeit reluctantly in Junkrat’s case. It was likely that he felt guilt over Zenyatta’s death. Resentfully, Genji thought he should, and despite his anger over the situation he allowed the junker to help.

They fixed Zenyatta’s body after three months of work; of scavenging for matching parts and repairing others. It sent a hot lance of pain through Genji’s chest to look at his master, laid out on a table with his arms folded across his chest, as if he was asleep.

Then he would see the bullet wound.

At his brother’s insistence, they held a funeral. Zenyatta’s memory and spirit was honored. Everyone moved on, and the battle continued.

Genji dragged himself on as well. Despite the pain, he had a duty to fulfill. Zenyatta would have wanted him to continue on to try and make the world a better place. Even when the numbness washed over him and threatened to pull him under, even on days where he felt that he could never resurface, he forced himself through.

A year passed. Genji stood on a grassy hill not far from the monastery, where the sapling of a cherry tree pushed through the soil, surviving and thriving despite the cold mountain wind. He stared down at the young plant and knelt before it, his head bent in prayer. A remembrance, of Zenyatta’s wisdom, of their hands laced together, of peace as they stared up at the stars and made broken promises to one another.

Genji placed one of Zenyatta’s orbs of harmony and discord against the small tree. He stood and forced himself to turn away, to find balance once more and move forward. He knew it was what his master would have wanted.

As he walked away, six familiar arms shimmered to life around him, golden and warm.


End file.
